A Junkyard Full of Lilies by Saima Afreen

…of all lights
the flicker of a mellow sun is the sweetest
unpacked, raw like warm honey flowing on your lips
golden. Flickering as the lost faith
in fairy tales. A smile your mother played with
before burying it in Arabian deserts.

The sand glistens in your voice
travelling to a wrinkled face fixed on Blue Jays.

The soft ice and maple leaves bring to him
the craft of losing. Unlocking grief
from the smooth neck of a woman
bearing purple roses. He carves
a stamp on her face –
of a felony: of age, of years that matured her like wine.

He drinks it, denying the intoxication
nodding at the pink lilies that grow in his junkyard
abundantly, blooming even at his doorstep, on his writing table
his spectacles.
Years grow around the house
taking back the honey, the sunshine
that once belonged to the woman
who like ginger wine mellows under the tropical sun

waiting to turn into a lily
full-blown, fresh for a weather-beaten face
old, waiting to converse
in the language of petals.




Saima Afreen‘s poems have been featured in The McNeese Review, The Oklahoma Review, The Nassau Review, The Foliate Oak Literary Magazine, Friends Journal, Shot Glass Journal, Visual Verse, Open Road Review, Muse India, Coldnoon Travel Poetics, Indian Literature (upcoming), Wordweavers, Nivasini Publishers, Ræd Leaf Poetry, The Asian Age, The Telegraph, The Times of India, The Guardian and many other publications. Her poems have been part of several anthologies. She is currently working on the manuscript of her first poetry book. She was invited as a poet delegate for Goa Arts and Literature Festival, Writers Carnival and TEDx Hyderabad.

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